


Time Disorder

by The Being (cypherd)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Reader Is Not Frisk, Self-Sacrifice, alcohol use, reader has female pronouns, spirit guide sans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypherd/pseuds/The%20Being
Summary: Far out in the reaches of Time and Space, the Citadel of Ricks offered up a Sister Citadel to Monsters from Timelines that were completely borked bro. A more sad, twisted, wretched hive of scum and villainy you will never find, except perhaps in the Mos Eisley spaceport...but that’s a story for another time and in a much farther away Galaxy. In one such Universe there was a Sans who made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure his Papyrus was safe in the Underground Citadel...but this is not that timeli---.You are a young Doctor teaching a pre-med class at Mount Ebott University. When your friends rope you into participating in the Undergraduate Cleanup initiative, you happen to meet someone who desperately needs your help navigating the strange new human world.





	1. Revolution Begins - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I think you have SmallPersianKitten to blame for this, though I personally thank her for being so darn supportive. I really hope this'll get better as time goes on, I've been so burned out but hey, I can write a thesis, I can write a fanfiction.

The evening found Sans sitting in the dump, quite alone and not drunk. The last part was a lie. He was actually quite drunk, but in the horrible, sad clarity sort of way that even a full house at Grillby's couldn't seem to distract him from, so he’d left to a place to allow sobriety to blur into flat out exhaustion. It really wasn’t happening nearly as quickly as he would like. 

He shifted a bit to dislodge whatever was presently digging into the middle of his spine; even he couldn’t sleep like that-- and hey, look at that. That was something of a lucky break. With a tug, the corner of the magazine that the action had unearthed was dislodged and he scrutinized the cover. A small victory under the circumstances but a welcome one.

Sans had plenty of secrets, but a love of what humans seemed to refer to as entertainment magazines were one of his best kept. Considering his brothers' preoccupation with Mettaton, invariably the Underground's most prominent (and public) consumer of Human Media, Sans was sure no one thought to ask or probably even imagined that the magazines he was spotted carting home from time to time weren't actually for Papyrus.

It wasn't exactly that he was interested in, say, this attractive dark skinned human with the braids and what was apparently a musical collection she’d decided to name after a drink for children’s parties for some reason...or what movies were perfect for your Girls Night In, or...well, actually he enjoyed the reactions Grillby gave when he memorized something out of 'How to Dazzle your Guests with the Perfect Holiday Cocktail’ and asked for it verbatim at the pub. Surface Sans had big plans to pick up right where Underground Sans left off, sleeping, eating and waiting for the timeline to get borked.

He flicked to Page 14, which turned out to be the second page of questions about something to do with dating, reading the answer key to work out what the ‘right’ answer was (all the ‘c’ responses), then to page 30 which was a twenty-questions style interview with the cover lady. He caught the words 'pleasure to work on' and 'empowerment'. 

So it was familiar. Familiar but not in the way that some of the things that happened around the Underground were familiar. The things that had him consulting his Physics books or plinking away at the basement machine until he'd once more miserably given up scrabbling at some answer that was always out of his reach. It was familiar because he had over two dozen magazines just like it squirreled away in his bedroom with the same information. The same words, the same people, the same pictures. More or less.

It didn't matter if there was some past version of him who had seen this one a thousand times before, on the same trek to the dump or if it was new and just shoved into the hole today as time marched forward normally. These magazines were in some realm outside of his worries and concerns and general theories he wished were more wild than he knew they were about the passage of time. Maybe tomorrow he’d read about the Lemonade woman and whether he had an aggressive flirting style again...or maybe it would be the blond man with the trim beard and if A-line skirts fit his body type, but he wouldn’t be thinking too hard about it.

His magic flared to life, lifting serving the dual purpose of lifting it to eye level and illuminating the pages, and there was a crunch fairly audible in the silence as he repositioned his hands behind his skull to read in ...well, comfort would be pushing it, but Sans prided himself on his ability to relax anywhere.

Let’s see. Letter to the Editor, Fan mail, Horoscopes. Page 43 had a book review. Always a good place to start. He was the crap magazines guy, Papyrus was the ‘Book Club’ reader. Sans could usually direct him towards a veritable pile of whatever the book was if he scouted around enough; his brother enjoyed the ‘inspirational tales’ of ‘humans work ethics’. 

Sans rolled onto his side, tossing and finding it more difficult to concentrate than he thought. What the hell was he laying on? Soda cans, it seemed. He wasn't sure of the time, but chances were good Grillby's would be closed by now. Even if he could have, he supposed getting blackout drunk wouldn’t be worth adding ‘crummy hungover morning’ onto what was a truly unusual bout of restlessness. It was probably for the best, but he really didn't want to go home either. 

He hauled himself up with a slight groan and double checked the page he'd been holding open with his finger to re-read the title. "Be Your Own Windkeeper". Even if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch the timing of humans decluttering from the dying hype of the penultimate latest thing, maybe he'd find something else to bring home to Papyrus. Sure his brother was aware Sans was an adult and Sans tried to treat Papyrus similarly even though he had a lot more reason to be concerned but unusual behaviour was not ignored. It was the kind of thing you did when you were each other’s only family regardless of what time and space shenanigans were going on... so it might be nice to make a preemptive strike on the 'Where were you, I stayed up and you didn’t come home' worry fest.

It wasn't just that Sans didn't want to get into it, he also had no idea where to begin with this one. So out here he would stay for now. He could deal with whatever Papyrus had to say about the whole situation later. If he did indeed have anything to say. Maybe he’d luck out and this would be a ‘forgotten by morning’ sort of deal. 

Knowing full well he should just got home anyway, he curbed that train of thought and wandered the dump for a while instead, with no particular destination in mind. Trash hunting was a pretty lazy pastime, especially if you wanted to find the good stuff. So far, most of the stuff he passed was just maggoty infested mulch piles of what was once food and he spotted a pile of books that he knew he'd already been through of primarily abridged notes to various works of literature. He wasn't too keen on those either. The last time Papyrus had picked up one of them, he'd gotten on a play kick presumably fueled by Mettaton and had spent hours performing memorized lines using his pet rock. The whole business had amused Sans up until he started talking about the possibility of taking his own head off his neck for realistic skull conversation authenticity.

Sans gave a little shudder. Not thinking about that either. At least finding the pile had put him in context of where he was in the dark. 

He crested a rather impressively sized hill of little white square containers and flat cardboard boxes, another mountain of cans; beer this time, judging by the definitive reek of stale hops and yeast, and oh hey. Here we go.

Sans seized upon the piles of posters and trinkets that seemed to sprout every so often, pulling up short to stare directly down at the one now by his feet. Swiftly he bent to lift it from the mire, brushing water from the glossy finish. It had to be a new load as the damp had only seeped into the corners a little and didn't detract from the rest of the picture at all, judging by the fact that he was currently scrutinizing the design like a Monster obsessed. 

He knew he was supposed to be here for Papyrus, but the picture went directly into his inventory. The swirls of colour reminding him of stars stars but yet looking like small explosive bursts of magic.stuck in his memory, in his skull even as he sunk his hands to the wrists in more filth with a determination to overcome his fit of self-indulgence.

Luck seemed to truly be with him today as his search yielded a rather worn copy of the book he'd been looking for.

Into the Inventory it went.

He supposed there wasn’t much left to do here. 

***

The house was dark when Sans returned home. Either Papyrus had given up or tonight was one of the nights he was hassling Undyne. He let himself into his room and instead of flopping onto the mattress as he usually did, he removed the painting...poster, he supposed, from his inventory and plastered it to the ceiling with a bit of blue magic and duct tape above his bed. 

He wasn't sure what time he drifted off to sleep but in his dreams, the stars in the painting exploded in vivid colour behind his eyes. 

***

"Sans!" 

The sharp report of Papyrus' voice broke through the veil of sleep and the skeleton blinked his eye sockets open. Huh, painting. So last night had happened. That was a good thing so to speak. He felt...rested too, he noted with no small amount of surprise. It had been a long time since he had gotten himself to bed in what could be considered a relatively normal sleeping position for a monster of his build and not just a crash in whatever variant position he slumped in.

"SANS!" 

"yeah...I'm up, bro." 

There was an audible pause. 

"WELL...GOOD!"

Sure why not. He’d take genuine surprise over reprimands for staying out. Sans tossed the book back into his inventory. That at least was a task that was pretty standard for today. Given the state most things got tossed into the dump in, he did try to at least do Papyrus the courtesy of counting puzzle pieces or in this case, pages.

He located a shirt and trousers that smelled marginally better than yesterday’s and figured being outside would air his jacket out a bit before shortcutting himself into his usual spot at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry Sans, I really do not have the time for anything fancy today.” Papyrus spun from the countertop to face his brother and if Sans had a stomach he could have described the feeling as having his SOUL drop into it. as Papyrus shut off the hot water tap he'd used to make the two bowls of instant-style oatmeal he was holding. 

He never did that; the Dinosaur Oatmeal was for special occasions and partitioned out slowly to last as long as possible. Papyrus never wasted his actual favourite...unless this was one of the days where he was...

"TODAY IS THE DAY I AM GOING TO DEMAND THAT UNDYNE GIVE ME THE FINAL TEST FOR GUARDSMANSHIP! ! I MUST KNOW...NO! I CANNOT WAIT ANY LONGER! I MUST BE IN THE ROYAL GUARD STRAIGHT AWAY! WHATEVER IT IS, I WILL PRACTICE UNTIL I AM WORTHY!”

That meant something. That meant...today...tomorrow. Something big was happening today or tomorrow.

He knew. He knew that there was.

“sounds great, bro. know you can do it.”

He wrenched his eyes away from Papyrus’ sincerely grinning skull, feeling the headache starting in his own. No, it definitely didn't have anything to do with last night catching up with him, no that didn’t help. He would have sincerely preferred the hangover.

The real upshot of it all was that the rest of the morning went by almost completely normally, with the brief concession that as was not ‘the norm’, Papyrus stopped himself midway through his usual reminders to Sans to visit the General Store for groceries and stay alert at his station.

He’d probably gobsmacked the poor guy into silence just by getting up after one call.

“break a leg bro.”

Papyrus wheeled around, confusion playing across his features as he attempted to dissect the statement. “Was that a pun Sans?”

“sure.” It wasn’t of course, but he probably should try for some normalcy.

Lie though it was, it seemed to be the right call as some of the tension and worry immediately drained from Papyrus’ features. “I was hoping your sense of humour had improved with your work ethic.” he groused, though the relief that came with it was palpable.

The door closed behind Papyrus as he set off to enact whatever he had in store to entice Undyne to redact her decisions about his Royal Guard status, Sans had the opportunity to take a bit more time with his breakfast before shortcutting himself to the station in the woods. 

“Hi Sans!” 

“Hi!”

“Good Morning!”

“ice to see you! snow good reason to be late for school!” he smirked at the two icecaps and the Snowdrake, the latter of whom dissolved into snorting, hysterical giggles. The morning of his job was pretty routine; check off that the kids passed by on their way to Hotland. They were well mannered, sweet kids and Sans liked seeing them, though he wished they were a little older...or Papyrus was a little younger. The Underground wasn’t too heavy on an equivalent peer group for his brother.

“Anyone looking for a hotcat for lunch?”

“I will.” Snowdrake stepped up with the reverence fans reserved for a celebrity comedian of Sans’ calibur while the two ice caps declined. Ah well, maybe the Hotland shift would yield better results.

As the kids disappeared over the horizon and into Doggo’s territory, Sans settled in and fished out his book find. He’d get the once-over out of the way and then he could sneak in a quick nap...or, given that he really was (still?) feeling unusually awake, maybe he’d go practice his joke set on the big door at the edge of the forest. 

He swept enough snow away from the ledge that it wouldn’t ruin the book and thumbed his way through the first few pages, tearing out the front leaflet that indicated the book was a gift from ‘Tanya’ to ‘Raquel’ and that she ‘love ya, gurl’. He made to shove the handwritten page under the ledge with the other ‘napkins’ and ‘condiments for the customers, not sans certainly not sans’, but smoothed it out again and took a second look.

It wasn’t part of the book, of course, the short missive had been handwritten in pen, but it struck a chord with the older skeleton. Who were these two humans? What was in this book that made the one think that it was worth sharing with the other? For obvious reasons, he didn’t know either from Adam, yet something in his subconscious fancied that perhaps the two were siblings. Sisters?

Sans never set much store by these sorts of books. He pretty well assumed it was just what most people would consider common sense and decent advice, conveniently laid out in chapter form, peppered with the experiences that best backed up the ideas presented, but not a true mosaic of life experiences or a fail proof conclusion to the hypothesis.

Here he sat nonetheless, turning the pages slowly, counting them for his brother’s sake, but really it was more like reading.

Years of academia and who knows how much time had been gained or lost or backtracked to timeline mishaps, but Sans’ speed reading skills were as sharp as ever.

By the time his shift to Hotland arrived, he had neither practiced his set of jokes nor taken a nap, but for the first time in a long time, he had a plan for something very new and not a lot of time to put it into action.

***

There Sans sat, watching the clock tick by in increments that were at once meaningless and the most important countdown he would ever be privy to. He fancied he could feel the weight of the book in his inventory even if inventory items didn't have weight. It was kind of the point. The house was dead silent as though even it was lying in anticipation of his next move. He couldn't even hear the strains of the dog’s newly donated music chiming away in the shrine under the sink.

The silence only served to strengthen his resolve. If even the annoying dog wasn't about, it must be certain that he was going to go through with this.

A thrill went up his spine in time with the notion.

Eyes locked on the door, he began to go over the plan in his mind a final time, but barely got started before the tell tale sound of a key being slotted into a front door lock grabbed his attention. This was it then. 

***

Papyrus was used to a lot of weird behaviour from his brother. The monster drank ketchup from a bottle for goodness' sake and seemed to have a general aversion to the organization of personal space, not to mention the bizarre habit of jumping on whatever small thing Papyrus did like he carried around an obsession about it. You make a pun the one time and suddenly Sans was spewing them left and right. 

Mention how much humans seem to like spaghetti (pasta?) and all of a sudden Undyne finds out about how useful it could be to Royal Guard training. Not that Papyrus generally minded that one, but it had come from Sans of course. 

He loved his brother, but he was so weird.

It had just gotten more and more odd over the years. as,as Sans' own personal interests withered under the manic preoccupation with Papyrus' life. Today had been different however. Sans seemed interested in his own things. He was awake. He was reading not sleeping at his sentry stain for a change, which while not exactly a first, was a nice change of pace.

Maybe, just maybe Undyne was right and this new, sad mopey Sans phase was exactly that and had come to its end. Whether she was right or wrong was up for interpretation right now but his intuition did suggest there was something new, something exciting on the horizon. He liked that explanation too. Maybe even better than the ‘phase’ thing.

All that said, Papyrus was not however prepared to find his brother waiting for him in the kitchen, rising from the chair the moment his boots crossed the threshold and pressing a rucksack into his hands without nary so much as a greeting.

"l i s t e n t o m e v e r y c a r e f u l l y p a p y r u s." 

Sans was way too close to Papyrus' personal space, hands locked down on his shoulders and bending his spine at an unnatural angle as he held him hauled him down to eye level.

"You need to listen to me bro." 

"SANS?" At least he’d dropped the voice. Good gracious, he hadn’t heard that one since...

"l i s t e n t o m e!" Oh well then. Papyrus found himself all too suddenly staring down into lightless sockets, and the sense of being a babybones again was back full force, the time when Sans had caught him playing with Chilldrake out on the bridge to Snowden Forest and he'd stumbled close to the edge, only to find himself looking very far down as gravity magic gripped his soul and yanked him back.

Papyrus had listened to Sans like at no other time back then, and he was going to listen now.

"Take this." the bag was jostled within his grip, though he was still rooted to the spot, looking up into the flare of Sans’ blue magic eve. How did his brother... he hadn't been able to detect it.

A creeping chill of dread made itself known which soon turned into a thrill. This was a test. Or his brother was entrusting him with this. Like a Guardsman...or...an equal. 

"take the ferry to hotland.there’s gold in the front pocket. do you understand me? bro?"

"Yes." Papyrus nodded his head as he spoke, but he couldn’t keep his brow bones from furrowing in worry. He told himself it was just concentration so he would remember everything Sans wanted and hoped it reflected on his face.

With that, Sans' demeanor changed instantly, as though a switch had been flipped.

"good!" He grinned, smiling a smile which didn't quite reach his now prominent eyelights. "good! say little bro, remember that trip your class took t’ New Home?"

"I do." Papyrus said, and he did. Every monster child did the New Home Trip. They’d toured the core with Knight Knight who had been their tour guide, they'd seen the six souls and it had been the first time he'd seen captain Undyne with his own eyes. Heck, he even remembered that King Asgore himself had come to read them a story and bring them milk and golden flower cookies from his own private castle kitchen. But why did Sans want him to remember that? Was this another one of his brothers' weird memory tests where he had to guess what stories were made up and which were real?

"Great!" Sans' tone was jovial suddenly. "So d’you remember how we went to Mettaton's resort to get there?”

Subconsciously, Papyrus began to simultaneously relax and mount with excitement. Were they going on holiday? Maybe this was one of Sans' japes and he’d find the bag stuffed with spare clothes and bone cologne the moment he looked inside.

It sure would explain why Sans had been so weird today. So eager to avoid any criticism from Papyrus, he just knew he’d blow the surprise.

He was so caught up in the eddies of this fantasy he almost missed what Sans was continuing to talk about.

"...and you go straight through to the core and out to new home,. You can take the elevator down to the throne room. now this is very important: you walk past to the Museum.

"I thought you told me that was called a mausol--..."

"museum, bro. There's a covered parcel I left for you there. take it and put it in your inventory and don't unwrap it. Then straight through the throne room. straight through.” He repeated. “just keep walking."

"But...wouldn't that take me to the..."

"keep walking. and don't look back." 

Papyrus stumbled as with those words the pressure was released on his soul.and the unexpectedness of well, everything up until now caused him to overbalance and have to catch himself on the edge of the table.

"Brother...." 

"g o "

" And then, if Sans was aware how harsh he had come across, he frowned, eyelights back in place and voice soft and brotherly once more fighting with words thick with urgency. "i mean it. please. papyrus. stars, just...just do it okay? i'll meet you soon. i promise."

Those words, more than anything calmed Papyrus’ nerves, even if his brother looked suddenly less intense and more like he was about to cry, even if his sockets could never stray long from their fathomless unnerving black. Sans was many, many things but he never, ever broke a promise if he made it. 

“can you do this?” 

“YES!” Papyrus hoped he was able to convey all the faith he had in himself and that Sans’ faith was not misplaced, but nonetheless, the last look he saw on his brothers’ face was still one of desperation. He would just have to show it with his actions instead. So with that, Papyrus walked out into the snow, clutching the rucksack he’d been given to his chest as he set on the well-traversed path to the River Person's boat. 

"Hotland please." he handed over the gold for the ride and barely felt the flare of magic as the boat transformed into its dog form as it sometimes did, nor the rush of water as the canine vessel ferried them at high speed down the surface of the lake. 

"Tra la la." 

Papyrus turned his skull towards them.

"Everything is changing, changing." 

He didn’t reply but rather spent the remainder of the boat ride wondering if Sans had been wrong all these years about the River Person's singing being just music. It certainly felt like the current song was directly relevant to his experiences.

Once in Hotland it was slow going. Maybe it simply was because of his personal dislike for the climate...and the area...and the great shuddering elevators that seemed to have no great purpose, not like real, traditional puzzles. 

He badly wanted to stop and look around in MTT resort but he continued on doggedly, not permitting himself to rest. 

After all, he reasoned, Sans hadn't even said anything about stopping off at the restaurant to pick him up a Glamburger...or a Starfait or anything like that. So onwards to finish his task he went.

In the Core, he waved to a Final Froggit who was holding a valve while a Loox peered into the console. They seemed surprised to see him but they also didn't stop him.

They were on the clock, working hard. Papyrus respected that.

He moved on.

From there it was clear sailing. The elevator unlocked. The Throne room empty as the flowers had been just fresh watered. He could see droplets clinging to the petals from the above sunlight when he looked in. That must mean it was very early in the day. He truly had traveled a long way.

And soon, he would be finished. And find out what exactly this was all about. Sans had told him, promised him he would at the end. He found himself pausing at the stairs. 

“I’m not a babybones.” he told himself, trying to ignore the rattling of his bones as he descended into the Mausu...museum.

By this point he was no longer surprised that things were just as Sans had said. The souls were there lined up in their clear containers, drifting lazily and peacefully in the space. If Papyrus had known what a lava lamp was, they would have put him in mind of one. As it was however, the place was just as he recalled from his school trip, familiar and comforting. All lined up tidy on those long sort of hexagon-oblong wooden platforms that looked like boxes. There was nothing scary about this area at all he reassured himself again.

But wait. Hadn't there been six, not five?

Oh. A note. Affixed right to the very item Sans had promised would be there.

"blue soul out for cleaning." it read. 

Most reassuring. Clearly someone had anticipated that he would worry about such a thing.

He picked up Sans' cloth covered gift and tucked it into his inventory quickly, even though he yearned for a peek. 

Now, all that was left was the weird part.

Walking out through the throne room.

But, he reminded himself just one more time, Sans...had promised.

Yes, Surely he would understand all of this very soon.

The tunnel loomed ahead of him, light casting undulating patterns along the walls. Papyrus clutched the bag containing his inventory to his breastplate. like a lifeline, yet a corner of him was tempted to fling it away.

Something about his inventory, or the situation, or something felt wrong. Like he was taking something that didn't belong to him. Like he was stealing.

Surely, he reasoned, it was just because it had been in such an odd place. Because he was taking a thing out of a museum. That would feel odd to anyone, even if he was allowed to do so. Even if he had permission from his brother.

And Sans had said he could do so.

He walked forward a few more paces. He was starting to rattle again,.

Or, no that wasn't him. It felt like it was coming from inside his bag.

Maybe he'd accidentally set his mobile to vibrate again?

No...his mobile phone was threaded through the laces of his boot, still and quiet. 

The vibration was definitely coming from within the bag

He paused mid way to ripping it open and Checking his inventory key items...but NO. He had promised. He would let Sans explain. His brother wasn’t the only one who could keep a promise.

Keep walking Papyrus. 

That is what a Royal Guard would do. 

Follow orders. 

Keep following orders. 

It's a Guardsman's duty to follow orders.

One foot in front of the other. .

The white and ripping shadows filled his vision, overwhelmed him, more and more and he felt the world tilt like the first time he’d tried blue magic. 

“now bro.”

Papyrus’ head snapped up and he looked around “SANS?!” he called, but the action caused a wave of vertigo to shoot through him and something powerful shoot through to his soul. Try as he might to remain upright, his vision filled with something dark and brown and something wonderfully blindingly bright. 

He barely got the chance to wonder what it was as the ground rushed up to meet him and he knew no more for quite some time.

***

"welcome back to the land of the living, little bro." 

"Sans?" Papyrus asked, though it came out rather thickly. "I...I CAN'T SEE YOU!" He was alarmed, though attempts to move aggravated the 'Ran over by Undyne that one time she attached wheels to the training dummy and rode it over the rock waterfall onto his head’ feeling the general act of movement seemed to sustain.

Also, he seemed to have developed a distinctive feeling of dirt and grit taste in his mouth.

"well ‘fer starters you happen to have been nappin' face down. I'm kinda proud a y’there. ten of ten for style." 

That did it. Papyrus knew Monsters didn't have determination naturally but he was pretty positive that this is what it probably felt like. 

Getting up. Right now. Prove lazy brother wrong about personal laziness and other general resemblance to lazy brother.

Papyrus managed to get his knees under him and used the tips of his phalanges to push off from a squat but didn't get much farther before he was seated on the ground once again and for reasons that had very little to do with physical limitations and aches. 

"Wowie." he breathed, staring out at the expanse, the view that stretched before him. 

The second trip to get back up was much more successful. but the view behind him was significantly less interesting than he would have imagined. It was a steep rock face, stretching up all the way to the ....sky. 

"Sans." Papyrus began. "Where are you, and why am I outside the mountain?"


	2. Mountain Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah promises of free food. The one true way to get any academic to do anything.

You heaved your overstuffed messenger bag up on the small two-person table only to groan in protest when the action made the uneven leg wobble and the contents of an abandoned but not quite finished coffee to slosh out over the edge of the cup. You quickly set the bag onto the chair before you got a hernia and gingerly picked up the abandoned cup to cart to the bin. You would have asked what kind of a student bought a large coffee and didn't finish half of it, but Mount Ebott University was the best known medical school and teaching hospital in the country and quite apart from being more than familiar with the demands of the average medical student, intern or resident, you had had the coffee at the Nurse's station and could appreciate avoiding a repeat performance. You mopped up the spilled coffee best you could, repositioned your bag on the table and joined the end of the queue. 

The person in the blue hoodie ahead of you immediately turned around.

"Hey! I thought that was you! Way to get a table!" 

"Heya, Yvonne!" you greeted your friend, "AND YES! I DID GET A TABLE!" you added, in a slightly louder voice than was necessary.

The increased volume had the desired effect as the predators circling your saved space in the hopes they could conveniently move your bag and pretend it was necessary moved off.

"Run, rabbits, run." you muttered, inching forward with the line.

"To be fair, at this time, they're probably all grad students too."

"Still. My table. Mine." 

“Ours?” Yvonne asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Ours.”

"That reminds me. What are you doing around here this semester?"

"Oh, picking up my class lists actually. I'm teaching Pre-Med...and Editing a textbook...and hopefully finding something case study worthy because I haven't published anything in awhile." There was a lull in the conversation while you placed your orders and headed to pick them up. "Hey, maybe you can give me some pointers."

"Oh...does the big bad Doctor need help from the Literature Department?"

"Haha. C'mon, I’ve never done the teaching thing before."

“That IS strange. So tell me, what exactly do you do in that teaching hospital of yours?"

"Again, very funny. I mean lecturing. As in, I haven't."

“Technically speaking, you have presented papers. It’s not that much different.”

“Yes it is, in that case their glazed over stares are from the fact that they’re silently judging me because they’re old white men who think they know better despite the fact their procedures are probably already outdated. I really don’t want the first batch of doctors I train to suck because I was boring!”

“Aw geez. You’re not going to bore them, but of course. I’ll help. What are friends for?" Yvonne smiled.

“Besides giving me a hard time?”

“Considering your grammar, I seriously doubt my biggest problem with you is going to be your presentation style.”

Most Universities with a strong focus on medicine would have had their second most prominent and well known disciplines be something in science or mathematics. Mount Ebott U on the other hand had the odd distinction of having a world renowned Indigenous Literature Program as the other reason most people came. Yvonne had gone from Postdoc to Associate Professor practically by your side, so despite the fact that when it came to grant money and department funding the two of you were at odds, she was one of your best friends. 

Privately you rather felt the reason the University had such a fantastic teaching hospital was because you literally lived next to a mountain of garbage, and that coincided nicely with the local population's rage over it, so somewhere along the way you'd gotten on the same page and after that found you had a lot more in common than garbage dumping protests..

Besides. Even if you imagined the stories were pretty out there, they still were cool. Humans in a war with Monsters was a pretty interesting thing to read about, regardless of how it fit into your cultural worldview.

You spread out a handful of paperwork in front of you and edged your tea dangerously close to the end of the table with a groan as you scrutinized the schedule. "This is sick. I have four years of seniority but they're still practically kicking my group around the campus. A room change halfway through the first semester?"

Yvonne plucked the paper out of your hands. "Let me see that." Her eyes skimmed the page. "Oh, I don't believe this!"

"I know!" you agreed with her. “It’s rubbish!”

"Not that. I’m talking about the fact that your medical guys are getting the damn new building!"

"So?"

"So we have needed a special collections room for ages! You have a whole hospital!"

You furrowed your brow. "What are you on abo...wait. you mean to tell me they finally FINALLY did something with that elementary school thing?"

The building in question was a mystery. The old lore about the mountain aside, the story of the building was almost even more strange by comparison. It had been apparently earmarked for an Elementary school, but yet the 'town' of Mount Ebott was practically Mount Ebott University in and of itself. The majority of residents were Undergraduate students or Hospital staff and the few professors that lived on campus with their families certainly didn't justify a kids school let alone a massive building for one. Maybe an off campus porthouse building at best. From what you understood, the local government couldn't find the paperwork that had authorized the construction of the school, nor when it had been earmarked as such. The weirdest part was truly the fact that the records regarding it stopped just shortly before the first child had disappeared. Whether or not one subscribed to any of the theories that had sprouted, the fact of the matter remained that all the years you'd worked at and indeed gone to the university, every department on campus, not to mention the hospital itself had been desperately pleading to claim the building, but without any appropriate paperwork, it seemed a lost cause. Even a last ditch effort at turning it into a block of extra classrooms just to be done with it had long seemed impossible.

You snatched the paper back from your friend to skim more carefully 

"Huh. well, that explains it. "

"What does."

"It's the MacKinnon Building." 

"Soooo?"

"As in the MacKinnon Radiology Centre? Same people."

"Figures." Yvonne sighed. 

"Well, bless them if we're forced to live beside Mouuuunt Ebola---er sorry, Ebott...but still, I cannot imagine the sum of money it had to have taken to blow by that building legislation."

“Speaking of; about that." Yvonne fished out a handful of flyers from her own purse. "Any chance you could...put these up in that new building of yours? It’s for a petition for a sit in to stop the dumping of garbage into Mount Ebott." 

"Yeah. I can do that." You agreed. Privately you knew your students wouldn't have the time to attend such a thing, but you weren't an idiot. Even if it was baby steps it'd be nice to be known for just being a good hospital, not one that got a lot of business because of living next to Filth Mountain.

"Yeah, there's an O-week thing as well. Maybe you could come?"

"Which is...?"

"Well we're doing a camping trip out on Mouth Ebott. Um. There's going to be an impromptu talk from one of the Native storytellers, we're going to do an area cleanup for charity and um, you know, the usual ice breaker nonsense." 

"Camping?" you groaned. "Dude, you know my idea of camping is when the hotel doesn't have room service."

"C'mon." Yvonne begged. "You said you wanted to get to know your students, that's part of lecturing."

"I think I'd rather stay home in my flat that has indoor plumbing and a toilet I don't have to dig myself." 

"Then do it because you can share a tent with me and Claude and I have a bottle of 35 year Glen McKenna from my birthday."

"Well on that note, I think I might have the time for that...but sheesh you're an English major, you write Thesis papers, you should know better than to bury the lead."

***  
That was how your Friday morning found you outside (ugh) in the sunshine (ugh squared) preparing to go (ugh cubed) camping. Predictably, your friends who liked this sort of thing had already spotted you in preparation for taking the mick. 

"Booyeah!" You owe me a tenner Yvonne. She brought her makeup." 

"You are LITERALLY the only person I know who brings a fully stocked makeup case on a trip to pick up rubbish in the woods."

“I mean, who are you planning to meet out there?"

"Well clearly since all the Undergrads are illegal I'm gunning for a Menage a Trois with you two."

Claude's eyes lit up of course, you and Yvonne rolled yours.

"C'mon, I'm only tolerating this because of the good cause part of the deal. And also because I am easily bribed with expensive alcohol. But officially because I am a good person. C’mon, let’s get going before I change my mind.” 

You shouldered your bag and the three of you started to merge in with the trickle of assembling students in varying states of excitement, exhaustion and apprehension.

Ebott mountain had been closed to the public for ages but there was a perfectly serviceable (and old beer bottle and crisp bag ridden) copse at the base which had never shown any particular danger, supernatural or otherwise and it was a perfect spot to take a scad of excited, first-time-away-from-home first year University frosh. 

The only time people ever went up there was construction crew to apparently widen the garbage dump hole and even that was rare...and from what was understood they all came back alright.

Otherwise, there was an honest to god chopper that brought in the rest of the waste from Fox City and apparently, an adjacent one. This notwithstanding, anyone who grew up almost anywhere nearby knew some version of the stories. Climbing the mountain, disappearing forever. Anyone with an ounce of logic would tell you that the climb was dangerous enough as it was for a skilled outdoor hobbyist or hiker and doubly so now that it was a proverbial landfill, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone who was not even a little bit curious or moved by the tales, even the most extensive atheist.

“Hey, I see some of my kids! Lemme go say hi!”

“And we should…?”

“I dunno, you guys’ll figure it out.”

You rolled your eyes again at Yvonne who shrugged as your friend ran off.

Claude, although younger had been with the University almost as long as you and Yvonne. He'd been the bartender at the Grad pub before he started his own Graduate career (apparently not having been scared off by your horror stories) and as an international student had always been in the residence halls. Being a resident adviser was an easier schedule to keep than grad pub bartending, and it fit his rather outgoing personality well. . You had to admit you'd had something of a crush on both your friends, but your lifestyle had never really much made for an easy dating life, so you'd long decided you'd much rather have two friends than an awkward social disaster. Fortunately for you, more than one of these undergrads apparently knew how to pitch a tent, so you left most of the setup to the outdoorsy minded and instead went to donate the medical gloves you’d brought and prepare the cleanup supply packages.

You picked up and read over a handout that covered what to do if you found medical waste. God you hoped no one would find medical waste, but at least the instructions were correct. 

"Okay Kids, Listen up!" Claude had since acquired a megaphone and was apparently the campsite was as set up as it was going to get. You could only assume one of your friends had put your stuff in the one you were sharing. 

So far, so good. Not too difficult, all you had to do was stick up your hand when your name was mentioned and count that you had 20 kids.

You took attendance quickly and herded your group a short way away using a crude map of the area.

"Um, Okay...red team." You recalled that was part of the Orientation Week experience - the kids being divided up into competing colour-based teams for charity money raised or ice breaker games. "Let's um, go collect the most rubbish!" 

If your enthusiasm had been forced, the group either didn’t care or didn't register it. They cheered, and you did your best to school your face into a matching expression.

"So, are any of you pre-med?" you asked conversationally, figuring you might as well try for some social interaction.

"No...I'm um, English Lit and business options."

"Kinesiology, Business Options."

"Same." 

"Same."

Yeah, that made sense. They usually put the kids who were in similar programs together in the dorm together unless they asked for someone specific when they were handing out dorm assignments.

The conversation mostly died after that, as the lot of you set to your task. You were two bags of trash and a nearly a full bag of cans in when you stopped a moment. That was...odd..

There was a set of footprints in the grass. Massive boot prints and the tracks looked...well, fresh, outdoorswoman though you were not. Most worryingly, they led off into the underbrush towards the mountain.

A thrill of panic shot through you. Oh wouldn’t that be lovely, a doctor getting people killed.

Immediately, you looked behind you and did a quick head count.

Thank whatever there was in charge of the Universe that there were twenty undergraduate students, definitely all recognizable to you as your 'red team' group,. 

Now the immediate panic had abated, you had to realize these boots were way too large for any of the people in your group. In fact, you weren't the tallest person going but frankly you didn't think ANY of the people you’d seen at the camp could possibly have belonged to this set of footprints. 

"Hello?" You called, nervously. Not like anyone would really hear you anyway.

You stood there for a moment. Was this worth pursuing? You played out all the scenarios in your mind - someone had gotten lost and hurt. Someone had gone off to sneak a cigarette or smoke some weed. There had - in the most likely answer - been a group of people out here earlier scouting the area for safety's sake before sending a bunch of University students out here to pick up garbage.

Your doctor training protested investigating versus just leaving it alone entirely and you decided to compromise with it.

You pushed your way into the trees and looked around,.No sign of anyone...but the footprints led back away up the mountain...

It really was probably safety crews.

No sense putting yourself in danger as well.

***

"WOW!" You stared at the pile of bags that were now sitting at your feet. "That actually IS impressive." 

A few of the Red group were high fiving one another. There were 20 of you, 21 plus yourself and you were no expert but this really was phenomenal. You didn't think you'd done all that much but these kids were freaking heroes. By sight alone there had to be over a hundred bags total here. Maybe a hundred and fifty! Kind of sad, but also kind of awesome.

What the heck. The weather was still nice, you clearly had accomplished something, maybe you could get behind this camping trip a little after all.

"Way to go everyone!" you were happy enough to hand off your clipboard and show off your achievement to the two other volunteers and the local parks city official who had come to help judge the effort. 

They too seemed to be impressed with the group’s efforts, if their murmuring was anything to go by. 

By the time you’d gotten back to camp, you remembered about the footprints, but soon forgot it when you realized no one was panicking over anyone missing.

"Hey guys!" You spotted Yvonne and Claude back at camp and jogged over. 

"You're alive!" 

"Nah, it was actually kind of fun. I think we actually kicked some ass."

"Memories of being a gunner?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Maybe." you agreed with a laugh. "I'm kinda thinking the group has a shot at winning actually." 

“Hah, not a chance. I’ve won this the past two years.” 

“It’s true, though we won’t know anything until after dinner. Speaking of..” Yvonne gestured at the tables which were now clear of cleaning supplies and were being set up for dinner.

Dinner as it turned out was a choice of hamburgers, hot dogs or vegetarian hamburgers and hot dogs, with crisps, vegetables and dip, soda, water and ice cream lollies. Pretty standard fare for a day outdoors, and not too bad either, so you filled a plate (and true to starving underpaid University personnel form, a few tupperware containers and sandwich baggies up with crisps and vegetable sticks) and joined your friends for some well-deserved supper.

Much to your delight, not a single one of the students in Claude’s dorm turned out to be pre-med, much less in your classes, so you felt completely justified in popping into the tent on the pretext of needing something, and fixing yourself a ‘personal flask’ from one of the soda bottles you’d salvaged. You were probably going to a special hell for mixing 35 year old scotch with off-brand diet cola but hey, it was about the last chance you were going to get before being too busy for any kind of recreation.

You nearly dropped it when Claude poked his head in. “Hey, get out here! Results are in!”

“Oh. Sure. Just a sec. Want one?” You sloshed the contents of the bottle.

“Nope, later. I gotta be sober for a little bit longer. Setting a ‘good example’ for the frosh and all.”

“Right.” You eyed your ‘flask’ and definitively capped it. “Maybe I’d better wait on this too.” 

“Anyway yeah, get out here.” 

You buried the bottle back in Yvonne’s bag and followed Claude out of the tent, smiling innocently at the University’s Dean of Students and a guy you thought might have been the town mayor or something. Definitely a good call on that waiting-to-drink edict.

“Students and Staff of Mount Ebott University, Verity Dorm and volunteers. Every year Mount Ebott University’s incoming class participates in an experience that raises money for a worthy charity and also makes our campus a nicer place for all of us. This year has been our most successful yet. As a gesture of gratitude, the members of the winning team across each dorm will receive a prize. This year, Emma’s Diner has partnered with us to gift the members of the winning team gift vouchers for a free buffet breakfast. We calculated based on a filled average bag count of combined recycling and waste.” 

Oh hell, now you really hoped you won. Emma’s was the kind of place you went after going for a big night out at the pub but it was definitely also awesome food. Ah free food, the clear ultimate achievement in life.

...and because this was a good cause and people who tried deserved their efforts acknowledged. Sure.

Mostly though, the free food.

You were so absorbed in trying to justify your own selfishness that you almost missed your team name

“Red Team...are you here?” the speaker reiterated, in that irritating way that still never failed to make even the surliest person scream their throat raw. Including you apparently. Stupid group mentality.

“You had…” the mayor paused for dramatic effect. “Two hundred and fifty FULL BAGS!”

“Holy shi--” Your cut off curse would have been drowned out anyway as your team screamed blue murder (or joy) but you didn’t join this time. This was logically insane. Maybe you were legitimately right about your group being secretly superheroes. You had been there, you didn’t cheat, so…

“AWESOME!”

“Holy crap, you really ARE still a gunner!”

“I guess!” You were still a little shellshocked. It just seemed so wildly improbable. However, you thanked the Dean and the Mayor...government....whomever person and happily packed your precious certificate away for safekeeping amid your things, and finally, finally cracked your drink back open. With a bunch of Undergrads around you couldn't imagine you were the only ones to have drinks with you, but thankfully everyone seemed intelligent enough to keep it concealed and any crazy confined to their tents and out of your line of sight, so no awkward questions or busting anyone for being underage. You couldn't remember what time exactly you moved the party into your respective tents or everyone wound down enough to fall asleep across the board, but the next thing you remember was being awoken by the call of nature.

You located a torch and were relieved that you hadn't been too stupid, as you were definitely sobered up enough to climb out of the tent, grab the bag with your things in it and get your shoes on, all without waking anyone up. 

And THIS was why you hated camping. Nothing like taking a piss while squatting over an open hole in the middle of the night and praying you hadn't miscalculated how uneven the ground was or the correct angle. .

You paused.

Shiiiit.

Or, as it happened, the muddiness of the ground. You had just stuck your shoe in something mucky...and in some kind of hole….oh...please...please not someone else’s toilet, please...

You juggled your load and pointed the light down at your, aw bugger. You'd stepped in a hole. A hole shaped like…

...wait.

You pulled up your foot with a squelch and stumbled back a few paces, sweeping the torch beam across the grass in front of you.

You KNEW those footprints. 

Suddenly, you felt very, very alert and very very nervous. Maybe just paranoid but this was getting a little weird. Plus you didn’t like the fact that whoever this was was apparently probably tall. Or just had big feet...or maybe...something else that was big. Heh, being able to bring some form of levity to the situation was a good sign.

Still, all attempts at humour aside, what did you even have in your bag that you could use to defend yourself? Bug Spray? Maybe. Toilet paper? Maybe if you pissed on it first...which you still had to do. Spare PJ bottoms...useless. Certificate to Emma’s to be protected at all costs….annnnd huh, okay, if you got hand sanitizer in someone's face it'd probably burn like hell. From a ...purse-sized bottle.

You armed yourself with bug spray in one hand, toilet paper and purell in the other and stumbled the last few feet awkwardly to the toilet. Well, mounting paranoia aside, bathroom breaks on a camping trip were never going to be on a top ten favourite experiences to begin with, be it yours or anyone else’s 

You finished up as fast as was possible and hurried to make yourself presentable again. The longer you stood here, the more you were convinced you were being watched. Which was creepy. As. Fuck. 

Well, at least some of that paranoia had subsided for a time...but now you were finished it was right back. How nice of (potential) Creepy McFuckwad to give you some privacy to go to the outdoor toilet.

You hiked up your trousers and spent several minutes trying to figure out how to not drop the flashlight and not put your bag or the toilet paper on the dew-damp grass AND tie up your pants drawstring. Screw it. You did the best you could and spun around, to look right into...a skull.

You predictably shrieked, more out of being shocked than out of fear. After all, you worked in medicine. You were very well acquainted with what was inside the human body, not to mention what happened when one was injured. With an opinion of horror movies that was ‘ridiculous’ if you were being polite, most people could only get a jump scare out of you on a good day...or night in this case.

You really hated jump scares.

You narrowly avoided taking a step back into the latrine and with a mighty effort managed to stumble forward instead, pushing at the...thing’s chest.

"I TOLD YOU THAT WOULDN’T BE FUNNY!" screamed the skeleton.

"I SHOULD FUCKING WELL SAY NOT!" you screamed right back before you could stop yourself. Something about the statement registered as odd, but you were too angry about something far more pressing to care. “I NEARLY FELL IN THE TOILET HOLE YOU PRATS AND---” before you could continue your tirade, the reality of what was going on caught up with you.

Something wasn't right here.

You walked yourself around the...the...what was it? Costume? Prop? You gave it a wide berth, ready to run at any point.

"What the..."

You mustered up all your bravery and moved towards it. Very slowly you stuck your hand out and waved it in the immediate space between the ribcage. Nothing. As in, there was nothing there.

Okay then, strings. There must be something with strings.

You looked up.

Nothing. There were branches nearby, but they were thin, hardly able to support a person or hide a puppeteer.

This was an elaborate as hell prank...and a very, very good one at that.

Mustering up every last ounce of courage, you finally swiftly as you could, reached out and wrapped your hand around that weird spinal column.

"HEY!" The skeleton...yelled.

Oh fuck you could see its jaw move. 

Oh fuck, you pissed it off. You rapidly let go of its spine, staggered backwards and made a rather undignified noise.

It was yelling again, fuck, fuck, fuck...

You regained enough presence of mind to huck the thing you had in your hand at it.

This happened to be the roll of toilet paper. 

"STOP LAUGHING!" It said, as the roll fluttered out a white tail and...bounced uselessly off its chest...plate thing. Was that...paper mache? 

You put your hands on your hips, starting to feel truly foolish.

"Okay okay, I can see the paper mache, but that thing is creepy.... Claude? Yvonne? I don't know how you did this but...okay you got me! Come on out!"

“DON’T YOU SEE? MY PLAN WAS HELPING THE HUMANS! GAINING THEIR TRUST BY AIDING THEIR CAUSE! I SHOULD NEVER HAVE TAKEN YOUR ADVICE, FRUSTRATING IT WITH A PRANK….I DO NOT FIND HER EXPRESSION OR REACTION FUNNY AT ALL! PARDON ME!”

You managed to process that the last part had been directed at you. You did not care. It was very clear there were no wires, no puppeteer and this was a walking, talking skeleton.

Nope. You were out of here.

So out of here.

You turned to run and tripped spectacularly over a clump of grass and went down right on your behind, so hard that the shock of it reverberated right up your spine. You could feel the cold dew soaking through your pajama pants. 

The skeleton tromped over to you in those giant...red...boots.

“Get...away.” Your chest still felt tight from the force of your epic pratfall, your head spinning. You didn’t know what was going to happen to you. Were you much drunker than you thought? Was this still a far more elaborate prank than you could possibly conceive and you were going to need to have a conversation with your friends about boundaries? Or were the stories about the mountain not just a grand storytelling tradition and you were going to die?

“I AM THE FIRST MONSTER TO SET FOOT OUTSIDE THE MOUNTAIN! I HAVE GAINED YOUR TRUST THROUGH AIDING IN YOUR HUMAN CLEANING TRADITION!” 

You blinked.

“YOU MAY CALL ME PAPYRUS!”

You stared at the outstretched hand. It was wearing mittens. He? The Skeleton. The talking skeleton. Monster.

Okay.

You took his hand and found yourself hauled to your feet with surprising strength. You gave yourself a little shake to rid yourself of the last vestiges of shock. Your trousers were wet and cold. 

“HAVE I SHOCKED YOU INTO AWED SILENCE WITH MY GREATNESS?”

“I…” You swung the backpack strap from your back. In a daze, you pawed through the rucksack and pulled out the gift certificate. “Here. Think this’s yours.” 

You waggled the end of the paper by the skeleton’s mitten until his thumb and padded finger hole closed around it. Somehow the action loosened your tongue and jump started your brain.

“On the off chance that this isn’t an elaborate prank...and I’m not ruling that out entirely by the way, I...think you’re going to have to start from the beginning here.”

**Author's Note:**

> True to form, I'll be naming chapters for songs. If anyone wants to guess them, you get...the satisfaction of being right.


End file.
